


A Cluster of Moments

by mabi_lune



Series: A Cluster of Moments [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Basically just small fics to distract me from the lack of communication in S4, Comfort, Ft.Martin being perfect and Jon being Jon, I'm sorry but these only get angstier the more I write them, M/M, More or Less Canon-Compliant, Some unrequited JonElias, come along and be sad with me as I write these, very soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-12 13:47:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20565347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabi_lune/pseuds/mabi_lune
Summary: A collection of unrecorded conversations between the staff of the Magnus Institute.





	1. Fine

**Author's Note:**

> I fell into the TMA hole this summer, and I've been wanting to write some JonMartin fics for a while, so here I go :) Basically I started writing this because I love Jon and Martin's relationship and need more moments between the two of them <3 I'm hoping to write many more of these, they will be random moments from the seasons so far. I hope you like it!

The recorder crackles and whirs softly as it comes to life.

“Statement of Eve Gray, on a series of strange occurrences involving… spiders…”

There’s a frustrated sigh. Then an intake of breath as The Archivist wills himself to keep on reading. 

Before he can begin again though, a series of timid knocks at the door stalls him.

“Jon?” A timid voice comes from behind the door, slightly muffled.

“Martin!” There’s relief in Jon’s voice, partly because he was not looking forward to this statement, and partly because of… who knows? Now is not the time to dwell on the less monstrous emotions he is still capable of feeling. He turns the recorder off.

Martin steps inside the office, slightly taken aback by the warmth with which Jon called his name. He quickly spots the recorder and the papers in Jon’s hand.

“Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting?” His right hand is on the door’s handle, and he is fully prepared to step back out. He’s gotten chased out of Jon’s office for interrupting a statement more times than he can count, and he’s not sure he can stand another lecture. 

“No- no, stay. Did you want to talk about something?”

Martin’s hand stills over the handle. Something flutters in his chest. Invitations to chat with The Archivist have always been rare, even rarer now after Prentiss’ attack and Jon’s encounters with every murderous entity to be found. Martin turns to face him.

Jon continues, “It’s, uh, spiders this one. Again. I’m not really looking forward to it if I’m being quite honest with you.”

There’s a thin smile on his lips but Martin’s gaze catches on the slight tremor of Jon’s slender fingers, which are tensed over the pages of the statement. Martin pretends not to see it. He also forces himself to tear his eyes away from the constellation of dotted white scars on Jon’s hands.

“I- um, tea? Would you like some? That’s all I wanted to ask?”  
Martin isn’t quite sure why every sentence out of his mouth is shaping itself into a question. Perhaps it’s because he’s lying? Because Martin isn’t here to offer tea. He’s here because he heard Jon sigh and because every time Jon makes an unhappy noise Martin cannot help but quell his worry by checking on him. But he’s not hurt. And now Martin feels very foolish. 

Finally though, he begins processing what Jon’s said, and forgets about tea. Before Jon can reply to his previous question, he asks, “Spiders? Seems like you’ve been reading nothing except statements involving The Web this week, no?”

“Unfortunately, it does seem like those are the only stories The Eye is interested in me recording lately.” 

Jon sighs, and it is the very same sigh that led Martin to him in the first place. 

Not for the first time, Martin wonders if Jon has noticed how often he checks up on him these days. Surely the fact that there are always at least three or four cups of tea on Jon’s desk at any given time should’ve made it obvious to him that Martin’s visits are much more frequent now than they were before.

It’s not normal what he’s doing, Martin knows. And he’s tried to stop it, really tried. But then Jon will grumble or sigh or even just be quiet for too long and panic will rise in Martin's throat, and his heart will quicken with anxiety. And then he can’t do anything but think about all the possible ways in which John could have put himself in danger and gotten hurt. At that point it’s useless for him to even contemplate getting back to work, the images of a bloody and injured Jon etched into his mind, so he’ll go make some tea as a flimsy excuse to check on his Archivist.

And Jon is always fine, of course. Or as fine as he can ever really be, now that being exhausted and anxious and guilt-ridden and self-sacrificing is Jon’s new ‘fine’. 

“Do you have to read it today?” Martin asks. “You could, I don’t know, take a break for now? It’s 11pm already, so really you should have left the Institute by now.”  
But even as he is speaking Martin knows it’s futile to try and get Jon away from a statement that has… called to him. Martin still isn’t quite clear on the intricacies of Jon’s new powers. He’s been reluctant to ask Jon about them- he doesn’t think Jon needs any more reminders of the things that make him not-quite human.

Jon shakes his head, “No, I can’t leave it until tomorrow. It wouldn’t…” his voice trails off as he struggles to find the words. When Martin first arrived at the Institute, Jon’s hesitation would have struck him as odd. Back then, it seemed like Jon was always so adept at finding the right words, and Martin always assumed it was because he spent his days reading other people’s stories. But more and more often now, Martin can see Jon at a loss for them when he tries to explain how he is changing.

He begins speaking again though, finding his footing once more. “The statement wouldn’t let me rest even I went home now. I’ve tried before and it’s useless. I won’t be able to stop seeing it, and thinking about it, and… yearning for it.” The guilt in his voice wraps itself around Martin’s heart and constricts around it.

Jon seems to notice the pain in Martin’s expression, because he quickly adds, “But it’s alright- this one looks like a short one. I’ll be home asleep before midnight I’m sure.”

Martin opens his mouth, fully prepared to tell Jon that he hasn’t left the Institute before pms turn into ams in at least a fortnight, and that if he does keep his word Martin is fully prepared to bake him a multi-tiered cake to celebrate the occasion- but Jon is quicker than he is.

“And what are you still doing here Martin? I would’ve thought you’d be done with follow-ups by now?” There is no accusation in his voice, simply curiosity, and what Martin hopes is a note of concern.

Martin feels heat creep up his cheeks and silently prays that the dimness of the office will conceal his flushed skin. 

If working at the Institute was a normal job, and if Jon was a normal co-worker, and if every single aspect of their lives wasn’t tinged with the supernatural and esoteric…then Martin could tell Jon that he was still here because he cared, deeply, about him. Because he wanted to make sure Jon wasn’t alone for too long. Maybe Martin could even use the word ‘love’ to describe what stopped him from leaving.

Right now though, in this particular reality, Martin opts for a lie. “No… I mean-yes. Yes, I’m done with the follow-ups. I’ve just um… my desk is a chaotic mess. I figured I’d clear it up this evening. It’s taking longer than I thought it would.”

If Jon notices his fidgeting hands, or his hesitation, or his pink blush, he doesn’t say anything. He simply nods. 

“So,” Martin says, eager to find a topic of conversation that will give him time to recover, “Is that a yes for the tea then? Might help if you’re staying late.”

_ Very subtle Martin _, he chastises himself, _not sounding suspicious at all now. _

It doesn’t matter though. Jon isn’t fazed by the sudden change of subject.

“I would like that very much Martin, thank you,” he says softly. He sounds so tired Martin can almost convince himself that Jon must be too exhausted to have noticed his awkwardness. He also sounds so tired that Martin desperately wants to wrap a blanket around him and force the man to take a nap. 

Instead (because he knows the last thing Jon needs now is for Martin to burden him with his tangled and aching mess of feelings) Martin says, “Okay, I’ll get right on that then! Be back in a jiffy.”

A few minutes later, as Martin is standing by the kettle beginning to hiss softly, he hears Jon beginning to record again. He leans back against the kitchenette counter and closes his eyes. 

Finally, he’s able to relax, the steady pace of Jon’s words reassuring him that, at least right now, Jon is close, and safe, and ‘fine’.


	2. Anchor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon almost gets lost in The Buried. Martin doesn't let him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea wouldn't leave my brain so here it is!  
Because I love the fact that Martin got tape recorders to help Jon out, and I needed to write about it (and make it angsty, because of course) <3

“I’m sorry, Melanie, Jon is _ where _?”  
Martin is not prone to yelling (he can’t even remember the last time he’s shouted at anyone), but right now he can feel his voice getting increasingly loud, confusion and panic clawing their way out of his throat.

“In the Do Not Open Coffin, down in the Artifacts Storage,” Melanie repeats. “It’s uh, it’s been more than two days now, so I thought… that you should know.”

“Two days? He could be…” Martin’s voice trails off, and he finds himself quite unable to speak when in his mind all he can see is Jon’s lifeless body, crumpled and Buried.

Melanie spots his increasing panic though, and quickly adds, “He’s not- dead, you know. It doesn’t kill, from what I’ve understood. He’s just, stuck… down there.”

Martin can feel his thoughts spiraling out of control. It seems impossible to him that he is still standing still when every single inch of him is screaming at him to run, to go to Jon, to save him. But he wills himself to stay with Melanie, to listen.

He takes a shaky breath.

“Was he… Is he trying to get to Daisy?”

“Yeah. He had this whole plan figured out to get her out, so it’s not like he just went in carefree you know? I mean Jon’s impulsive, but he’s not that impulsive.” Melanie seems to hesitate for a second before she says, “But two days is two days, and I don’t really know what to do if his rib doesn’t get him out.”

“His _what_ ?” Martin is truly yelling now. He’s not sure when talking escalating into screaming, but the volume feels more appropriate somehow, more ‘right’, like he’s channeling all of his energy into… something (however unproductive that something is).

Melanie’s voice doesn’t rise to match his. Some faraway part of Martin thinks she might be trying to keep him calm, but Martin is currently so far from calm that he’s not sure he can feel anything but the desperate panic submerging him. Melanie’s words barely register through all the static in his mind, but he forces himself to focus on what she’s saying.

“It’s… a bit of a long story, but the short version is that Jon thought that if he had an anchor above the ground, then he’d be able to find his way out. Tried cutting off his fingers too, but that… didn’t take. So… rib it was.”

Martin could just about laugh if he wasn’t so bloody terrified for Jon right now. Because _really_, this was pushing Jon’s self-sacrificial tendencies to an extreme. What, was getting himself nearly killed during The Stranger’s ritual not _enough_? Or had it simply been _too long_ since he’d set off for the US alone and been hunted down? Martin fiercely wishes that all of these things Jon did only because so-or-so mysterious entity compelled him to, but he knows that that’s not the case. No-what it is, is Jon deciding that the risk of him turning into a monster outweighs the benefits of basic self-preservation (said benefits including, but not being limited to, Jon not being dead). Martin disagrees with that assessment. Strongly.

But it doesn’t matter right now what he thinks because Jon is lost within The Buried.

Martin leaves Melanie behind. He’s not sure whether he says anything to her before going, or if he just turns and walks away. Truth be told, he’s aware of very little except for the fact that he might lose Jon. That he might finally end up truly Lonely.  
Martin has been alone, sure, ever since he became Lukas’ Assistant, but he can’t say he’s been entirely Lonely, not like Peter wants him to be. He’s always known that Jon was close, somewhere in the Archives. Although he would never let himself go through with it, Martin knew that if he just knocked on Jon’s door then he would be there. Without fail. It was enough for him that Melanie and Basira had made it clear to Martin that Jon asked about him often, and that he was worried for him. It was enough that when Martin felt particularly daring and desperate, he could walk past Jon’s office (slowly) and hear his soft voice, narrating someone else’s life. These slivers of hope were enough for Martin not be Lonely.

Martin doesn’t know why exactly, but he finds himself heading to the file room of the Archives, where all the tapes are stored. He has a vague idea that maybe the statements could help Jon find his way out. He thinks that if he plays the tapes near the Coffin, then perhaps Jon will be able to See them. It’s a stretch, Martin knows. A gut instinct and nothing more. And it isn’t like The Eye works in any way that Martin can even pretend to understand. But for now it’s all Martin can think to do, and he needs to do _something_. 

He grabs a cardboard box off the ground and begins shoving tapes and recorders inside. He gets a few of the very early ones too. Jon was… happier then, and Martin thinks that could help. When the box is nearly full, he heaves it up against his chest and starts making his way to the Artifacts Storage.

When he walks past his old desk though, he hesitates. Sets the box down on his old chair. He feels a strange gratefulness for the fact that no one has replaced him there yet. And it’s silly, but Martin begins rifling through his drawers. He’s not sure what he’s looking for until he’s found it, until his fingers touch something cool and hard amongst the disorganized mess of papers he left behind. He pulls the tape recorder out. It’s one of the ones he used to record his poems on. He’d hidden it away shortly after Prentiss’ attack. He’d let it slip that he recorded his poetry, and he knew Tim would never have let him live it down if he got his hands on it. So the recorder had remained in his desk.

Martin can’t say exactly what it is that compels him to place that recorder along with the other ones in the box. It has nothing to do with The Eye, or with Jon’s position as an Archivist, which were the things that he’d built his entire ‘plan’ around. It’s just that… Martin is beginning to realize that _his_ anchor might have just been Jon all along. He thinks that some days, hearing Jon’s voice through that closed door is the only thing that stops him from fully giving in to The Lonely. And it might be a foolish and outrageous thought to have, especially with everything that’s happened ever since Jon woke up, but a small part of Martin wonders if he might be Jon’s anchor too. 

There’s a minuscule hope within him that if Jon’s recordings aren’t enough to guide him back out, then maybe (maybe) hearing Martin’s voice will help.

It does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really enjoying writing these small pieces, so let me know what you think!  
Something had to be done about Martin's poetry recordings :P
> 
> Maybe one day I will write a happy fic?? Today is not that day though >.<


	3. Statements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon comes back to the Institute once he no longer needs to hide at Georgie's.
> 
> He finds out Elias has been asking Martin to read statements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes places before the previous part, but really each story can be read on its own so the chronology doesn't matter :P

Jon doesn’t knock before entering Elias’ office.

Elias is at his desk, seemingly in the middle of writing a letter. He finishes his paragraph, unhurried, before looking up at Jon.

“Jon, this is a pleasant _surprise_,” he says, smiling. The way he enunciates the word ‘surprise’ suggests it is anything but. There isn’t much that can surprise a man like Elias, not anymore. “I haven’t been seeing you around much since you came back to us. I imagine it must feel good not to be hunted down for murder anymore, no?”

Jon doesn’t reply. His fists are clenched at his sides. He pictures what it would be like to grab the marble paperweight on Elias’s desk and throw it at his face. He thinks about the sound it would make, the blood that would inevitably follow, and then the silence. He hopes Elias can See what he’s thinking about right now. He must, because he sets his ink pen down and moves his hand so that it rests upon the paperweight. The smile doesn’t leave his face.

“Alright. Is there any particular reason you’re here, or have you just come to show me that you’re upset?” His tone is the one a parent would use with a petulant child, waiting for them to settle down. He continues, “Because I would have hoped that you would realize that in the grand scheme of things, what I did to Leitner won’t mean anything. I agree that it’s had… unfortunate consequences for you, but you’re still well on your way to becoming-” Elias stops himself, like he’s worried about spoiling his fun, “Well never mind that.”

Jon takes a few steps forward into Elias’s office, so that he’s in front of his mahogany desk now. His hands are curled around the edges of the desk, and he’s leaning over it slightly, looking down at Elias. There’s fury in his eyes. Elias thinks that if it was anyone other than Jon right now, then he might feel threatened. But it’s very difficult to muster up any sort of fear about the haggard and exhausted man in front of him. Really, all that Elias feels is excitement about how Jon is progressing (and perhaps a pang of sharp adoration for his little project. He’s so angry, so powerful).

Jon finally speaks, “That’s not what I’m here for. Tim told me that you’ve been having Martin read statements.”

Elias lets out a soft chuckle. Because _of course _ Jon is here about Martin. Really, he should’ve guessed it when he first looked up at Jon, all shrouded in desperation and anger.

“He’s not the only one that’s been recording them you know. I’m quite certain Basira and Tim have read a few as well.”

Elias doesn’t need The Eye to see that Jon is very tempted to punch him. 

“You know that it’s not the same thing. They… affect Martin more,” Jon says. 

Elias muses on how different his voice sounds now compared to when he’s reading statements. It’s no longer confident and strong. It sounds like Jon is falling apart. There’s guilt there too, and Elias can See it. Jon left and Martin had to pick up the pace. 

Jon shivers slightly, feeling the familiar tingling sensation wrapping around his neck. “Stop that!” He hits the desk with his right hand and then pushes himself away from it, so that he’s standing straight once again. He crosses his arms over his chest, fingers digging into the flesh they are resting upon.

“He looks exhausted. He flinches at every loud noise in the Archives. The statements are clearly draining him.” Jon’s voice has fallen to a whisper now, all the ferocity vanished from it. There’s more too, but Jon is certain Elias knows all of it. Martin doesn’t laugh as often as before (and not nearly as loudly), he’s switched from tea (plenty of milk, three spoons of sugar) to coffee (dark and bitter), and there are circles under his eyes (he hasn’t been leaving the Archives much). 

“Is that so?” Elias asks. “I hadn’t really noticed,” he says, not a sliver of worry or apology in his voice. “Either way, Martin hasn’t said anything to me. After all, it is his job, you know?”

Jon’s reply is immediate, “It’s not. It’s mine.”  
He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes and sighs, frustration seeping out of him. 

Elias drums his fingers against the wood of the table, then rises from his chair. He walks over to Jon. When he’s right in front of him, he places a hand gently (if not reverently) upon his shoulder. Jon recoils slightly, and drops his hands from his face. Elias’ fingers stay pressed against his crumpled shirtsleeve. His eyes are focused on Jon’s.

“Yes, Jon, and you are back now, so you may continue doing what you are meant to do.” His voice toes the line between comfort and command.

He wishes Jon would stop focusing on things that do not matter- on _people_ that do not matter. Those will only slow his progress. Jon is transforming into something terrifying and beautiful, and Martin will only drag him down. He won’t be able to understand how Jon is changing, won’t be able to appreciate it. Becoming a monster is a marvelous thing, and Elias doesn’t think that Martin has it in him to love a monster. He’s so very human he’ll never be part of what Jon is transforming into. 

Elias fingers’ clench around Jon’s arm tighter. The increase in pressure jolts him back to reality, and he seems to find his anger again. He takes a step back, and Elias’ hand hangs in the air for a moment, before dropping to his side.

Jon finds his voice again, and it’s harsher now. “I don’t want him recording statements anymore. I’ll… I’m ready to start reading them again, right now, so he doesn’t need to continue.”

Elias smiles. There is actual warmth in his expression now.

“I’m very glad to hear that, Archivist. Welcome back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Elias was so much fun!  
And in a surprise twist of events, it was Jon's turn to be sad and worried in this chapter xD
> 
> Please let me know what you think!! <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> Aaa and that's it! I hope you enjoyed it :)  
Please let me know what you think so far, I'd really appreciate it! 
> 
> Also if there's a specific episode you'd like me to write about let me know because I'd love some ideas!


End file.
